


Game Cartridge Blues

by larryface (humanyubel)



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Biblical References, Bisexual Male Character, Blood and Gore, Character Study, Dreams and Nightmares, Dysphoria, Gen, Implied Relationships, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Ouija, POV Second Person, Prophetic Dreams, Strangulation, Trans Masc Character, Upped to Mature because of the gore in the nightmares not for sex stuff, Writing Exercise, unedited bc i dont give a fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-01 16:07:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16768435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanyubel/pseuds/larryface
Summary: Everything around him felt so wonderful, soft. Kinder than life had treated him in years.“What are you doing here, dude?”Sal takes in his surroundings, shifting from hyper focused to blurry and abstract.His gaze settles back on him as he shrugs off the feeling of unease.“I guess I wanted to see you?”





	Game Cartridge Blues

Brown, all around him brown breathed life into the landscape. Umber and chestnut and cocoa and russet.

Sal lay stretched out amongst the field. In the distance, he can see Larry’s tree house- their treehouse

The familiar shape of his best friend descending their hideout brings a smile to his face.

“Sally Face!” Larry laughed, running up to him.

“Larry Face!” Sal matches his enthusiasm, the sarcastic reply now nothing more than the fondest of nicknames.

Sal rises to his feet, taller, laughing at the weightlessness of his body.

Everything around him felt so wonderful, soft. Kinder than life had treated him in years.

“What are you doing here, dude?”

Sal takes in his surroundings, shifting from hyper focused to blurry and abstract.

His gaze settles back on him as he shrugs off the feeling of unease.

“I guess I wanted to see you?”

Larry laughs like rainy afternoons spent holed up inside listening to music.

He takes Sal’s hand into his, fingers graceful and long.

Sal threads their fingers together, face flushing cherry red.

“Where are we going?”

Larry laughs, eyes alight with mischief.

“That’s for you to just find out.”

Sal giggles into his free hand.

“You know you look good with your hair down. I say it all the time, but you really do.” Larry gently elbows him. “Now we match, huh?”

He blinks and suddenly the landscape around them has shifted. They’re walking through a park together.

Just the two of them.

As they continue to walk through the lush grass, every patch they tread on yellows and grows unruly.

Anxiety crawls up his spine but the warm smile on Larry’s face makes him melt.

“Have I ever told you about New Jersey?”

Sal idly swings their joined hands between them, humming a nonsensical tune to himself.

“No. What was it like?”

The wind blows unchecked against the back of his neck.

Sal peers over his shoulder to see an endless void stretched behind him.

Uneven, it appears to him deep in color like graphite scribbles on homework paper.

Larry squeezes his hand gently, drawing his attention back to him.

Sal’s heart flutters like a captured butterfly.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” Sal shrugged, taking note of the barren husks of trees around them.

“I grew up there. I lost Mom there. I picked up an interest in guitar. I was viciously bullied.”

“Tell me about your Mom? What was she like, dude?”

They pass a discarded picnic basket and blanket. Empty beer bottles with dog deeth bottle openers surround the innocent set up.

“My Mom was the nicest woman in the whole world. Nicer than Lisa, even. She’d let me sleep in between her and Dad when I’d have a nightmare.”

Sal took a deep breath. Tears welled up in his eyes against his best efforts.

“She never rose her voice at anyone. She was kind and patient and everyone respected her. She would even let me help her with local charity stuff.”

“That’s rad.” The words themselves fall a little flat but the way Larry says them is nothing short of heartfelt.

“What about you?”

“My Mom never really had time for stuff like that. My Dad would take me out for Christmas stuff and we’d go on- I guess you’d call ‘em play dates? We’d see a movie together and then he’d come home and make Mom and me dinner.”

“That’s sweet.” Sal coos. He’s struck by the memory of his Father recounting how he’d spent four years pinching pennies to afford an electric guitar for him for Christmas.

A parent’s love is sweeter than the finest nectar.

“Yeah, I guess it is. Mom spoils you cause you’re my “cute best friend”.”

Sal lets out a startled laugh.

“Oh, _Lar-bear_ you’re making me _blush_.”

Larry shoves him, though he soon gives in to the urge to laugh as well.

“We’re here.” Larry says, mirth lingering in his voice.

Sal’s heart ceases to beat.

Endless nothing stretches on before them.

It’s as if the world had ended at a corner, an unfinished painting long abandoned by its artist.

Dark tendrils of nothingness krept at the edges like sentient vines, squirming _squirming_ appendages.

  


Larry cups his cheek in the palm of his free hand, tucks a lock of hair behind his ear, dark eyes sparkling.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something, Sally Face.” Sal leans into his friend’s palm, cheeks flushing and eyes fluttering shut.

“What?”

He feels warm breath exhaled against his trembling lips.

His cheeks flush a ruddy red as his heart does double time. He’s never been able to catch a break when it came to his best friend.

_Thump thump thump- thump-thump thump thump thump._

Larry. Larry was going to kiss him and he was going to kiss Larry.

“No one could ever love you.” Sal’s eyes shoot open.

He peers up into Larry’s eyes, stomach twisting in knots.

_Red. Red. Red._

“Wh- Larry?”

Those were not his best friends’ eyes.

Those were the eyes of the man- the _monster_ who had killed his Mother.

“It’s all your fault. Tampering with forces you can’t wrap your simple mind around. Everything you love will be crushed under foot.” He speaks in Larry’s voice. Inhabits Larry’s body.

He blinks his eyes and Larry’s face morphs into a terrifying reminder of his past.

He’s not given enough time for the fear to settle into his bones before the ceremonial dog head mask turns hyper realistic. Drool leaking out of the muzzle as he growls at Sal.

“Stop!” Sal tries to back away but the grip on his cheek and his shoulder keep him stationary.

Without even being aware of it the man borrowing Larry’s body had backed him up to the end of the edge of the world.

The hair on the back of his neck stands on edge. The sound of silence behind him deafening.

“To give into the desires of the flesh will damn _you_ . To pursue curiosity’s end will damn _everyone else_.”

The monster bares his blood stained teeth. Clumps of blonde hair and flesh stuck between them.

Sal gags, violently shaking.

“Get away from me!”

_Not again, not again, not again. God, please not again!_

The monster opens its gaping maw and lunges at his face.

Sal howls, beating his fists against his assailants face, neck, and chest.

**_Get off, get off, stop, get off, get off!_ **

Razor sharp claws dig into the meat of his shoulders before raking down and clawing at his chest.

His vision returns to normal. Everything to the right of him as good as nonexistent.

Gauze constricts around his face, he’s struck with the feeling of his face melting off. The only thing keeping it in place are the thick bandages across his entire head, securing the gauze.

“You _will_ burn.”

The monster shoves him off the precipice.

Larry peers over the edge, eyes blanked out and skin having taken on a bluish tint.

“Larry!” Sal screams, arms outstretched, hoping against all odds Larry would help him. Somehow- anyway.

Larry walks away, out of his line of sight as he descends into the end.

_“Sal! Sal! It’s okay!”_ Jim’s voice echoes within his skull. His voice unfettered by the ties of everyday life.

His ears ring and he can’t tell which is louder, his screams or Jim’s words of comfort.

He opens his eyes and he’s sitting at a low table in an abandoned classroom. His prosthetic is secured against his face and his hair pulled into their customary pigtails.

“You back yet, dude?”

Sal shakes his head, attempting to clear the fog.

“Uh, yeah I guess. What’d I miss?”

Sal looks around the table and sees Ashley, Larry, Todd, Chug, and Maple looking back at him.

“Are we playing D&D?”

Ashley laughs, a warm smile spreading across her pretty face.

“You’re the one that convinced us all to do this, Sal. You know I don’t really believe in this whole thing, but…”

“We couldn’t let you do this alone.” Larry finishes for her.

“Oh, uh. Thanks?”

Todd pulls out an old box and sets it on the table.

“Does everyone know the rules?” Sal’s chest tightens at the sight of the Ouija board.

They never took it out of the fifth floor.

“I thought we agreed to keep it in Addison Apartments’ fifth floor?”

Todd shakes his head, curly red hair lightly bouncing with the movement.

“We’ve been over this, you told us to take it. We all thought it was a good idea, so why not satisfy our curiosity?”

Todd’s knee bounces, shaking the table slightly.

He bites his lip and looks down at the table to collect his thoughts.

The blue note book he carried with him to class every day lay open, thick pencil lines crudely representing the daymare he’d just experienced.

Sal sighs and grounds himself to the situation he’s found himself in.

Larry sat to his right and Ashley to his left, Todd across from him, and Maple and Chug to his right and left respectively.

It wasn’t uncommon for him to lose time like that, but it’d been especially grueling.

He flips to the next page of his notebook while Todd sets up and snorts in confusion at the rudimentary stick figures.

The round headed stick figure together in a circle with five others, their heads scribbled away.

“-l. Sally Face!” Sal snaps to attention, all eyes on him once again.

“Sorry. I was just reading something in my notebook.”

Todd huffs a sigh, though the expression he wears is fond.

“Its fine. You’re going to be the leader tonight. So you get to ask the questions.”

Sal clears his throat, casting aside any negative thoughts.

“Alright. Everyone, put your fingers on the planchette, don’t move it and don’t take your hands off until we dismiss the spirit we’re speaking to.”

“Actually… uh, Maple and I would rather just log what happens instead of directly interacting with the board.”

Maple nods, purple hair falling into her wide eyes.

“That’s fine. You two can do that- Todd, Ashley, Larry, and myself will handle contacting the spirit.”

Maple and Chug offer him grateful smiles, readying their pencils and papers.

The gang nods and each place their index and middle fingers on the planchette.

Ashley leans into his side, a comforting warmth living and breathing against him.

“Hello. We’re here to seek answers about the town of Nockfell. Are there any friendly spirits present?”

The planchette moves under their fingers, slow as molasses.

H-E-L-L-O

“Hello. My friends and I would like to ask you some questions while you’re with us. Is that fine?”

The planchette moves down to the “ok” option.

“Alright. Thank you.” Sal shifts in his seating to get comfortable.

“When were Addison Apartments established?”

R-O-S-E

Sal hums deep in thought.

“That’s kind of unhelpful.”

Ashley makes a face.

“Rose is just a name- of course it’s unhelpful.”

Sal shakes his head, pigtails brushing against her cheek.

“No, it’s unhelpful because Rose, was at least two centuries old. She mentioned that she sold the land to Terrance’s family. But that just brings up some even more uncomfortable questions…”

Todd mumbles something to himself before getting the group back on track.

“Okay, Maple and Chug can write that part down and we’ll look more into it after the session.”

Sal inhales, holding the breath in his chest for several seconds before letting it out in a gentle puff.

“Is the cult- The Devourers of God still active?”

F- U- C- K- Y- O- U-

Sal flinches back, eyes widening.

He can taste bile at the back of his throat as white hot pain surges through his chest.

“Rude!” Ashley crows, pressing closer to Sal’s side.

Larry reaches over with his free hand to grasp some of Sal’s shirt.

Sal gasps, drawn back into the current situation.

“Keep going.”

“I don’t know… I’m kind of uncomfortable with this. We asked for a nice spirit and got a rude one. Maybe… Maybe we should just stop. Someone here must’ve accidentally brought bad energy into the room.”

“ **_Keep going_ **.” Todd whispers, eyes never straying from the board.

“Uh. Sorry. We just wanted to speak with a kind spirit. You are dismissed.”

N- E- V- E- R- L- E- A- V- E-

“I think we contacted a dem-”

“ **_Goddammit, Sal! Keep going!_ **’”

“Fine! Where is the cult meeting up?”

H-E-L-L

“Looks like we got a smartass spirit.” Larry mutters glaring at the Ouija Board.

“What is the cult up to?”

R-I-G-H-T

“Who are the members?”

A-L-L

Sal’s nearly ready to tear his hair out.

“Please answer me!”

C-A-N-T

“Fine! There’s one question I haven’t asked yet.”

Sal’s fingers flex against the planchette.

“Who is the leader of the cult?”

Radio silence.

“I said: who is the leader of the cult?”

N-O

“Who is the leader of the cult?”

T-H-E T-R-U-T-H B-I-N-D-S

“Tell me: who is the leader of the cult?!”

The spirit is silent for several agonizing moments.

D-O-N-T W-A-N-D-E-R S-O F-A-R S-W-E-E-T-I-E

Sal’s blood turns to ice.

W-H-Y D-O-N-T Y-O-U W-A-I-T

“Stop.”

U-N-T-I-L Y-O-U-R F-A-T-H-E-R G-E-T-S H-E-R-E O-K-A-Y H-E S-H-O-U-L-D B-E H-E-R-E A-N-Y M-I-N-U-T-E N-O-W

“Stop!” Sal wrestles for control of the planchette, directing it to “bye”

“You are dismissed! Good bye!”

The planchette jerks back to the alphabet.

O-H A-L-R-I-G-H-T S-A-L J-U-S-T G-I-V-E M-E

“Sal, what’s going on?” Ashley whispers, pretty green irses completely engulfed by her pupils.

“You are dismissed! Good bye!”

A S-E-C-O-N-D T-O G-E-T M-Y P-U-R-S-E

“Stop!”

T-H-E-N W-E C-A-N G-O T-O-G-E-T-H-E-R

“STOP!”

B-A-D B-O-Y

“YOU ARE DISMISSED! GOODBYE!” Sal trembles.

B-A-D D-O-G-G-Y

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?”

Y-O-U-R F-A-U-L-T

“Leave me alone!” Sal attempts to tear his fingers away from the planchette. He knows it’s foolish the second he tries it.

His fingers won’t budge, though his entire arm wiggles around and he leans back with all his weight, the planchette and his fingers stay firmly on the board.

“Guys help!”

B-A-D M-O-M-M-Y

“I can’t do this, help me!” Sal’s breath comes out in harsh puffs.

He shuts his eyes against the next message, praying for this to all be over.

_“Sally.”_

Sal nearly screams, eyes snapping open.

His Mother floated above the board, face leaning into his.

“Oh God.”

_“Look what you did to Mommy, Sally.”_

Sal leans as far away from her as he physically can.

_“It’s all your fault, baby boy. Take responsibility.”_

Her eyes are zipped shut, mouth unmoving.

“You’re not my Mom!”

She launches at him with a yowl, hands locking tight around his neck.

Thumbs pressing hard enough to nearly crush his trachea.

His free hand scrambles up to claw at her arms, push at her face, do anything to get her away. Anything to make this stop.

_“You’re not just responsible for yourself.”_

And then it’s all over.

Sal gasps, peering down at the board.

The planchette was left on “bye”.

The room completely silent.

It must’ve been some horrible vision, seeing as none of his other friends were screaming.

“I don’t think we should take the board out of the apartments again.”

Sal peers up from the board to seek support from his friends.

The sight he’s greeted with is more terrifying than anything the board had produced.

All of his friends gathered around the table, stick figure like abominations, with the heads scribbled out.

“Now we match.”

A scream gets caught in his throat as he looks down at his own hands, stick figure arms that go up to grasp his scribbled out head.

The Super Gear Boy digs uncomfortably into his ribcage, unyielding and hard.

He sits up with a groan, head pounding and heart rising up like bile against the back of his tongue.

Sal stumble to the kitchen still static around the edges and drinks directly from the tap. The cool glide of water soothes his aching throat.

The muted TV’s light strains his good eye as Sal makes the seemingly endless trek back to his room, far more awake than minutes prior.

“Gizmo?” Gizmo gives an answering chirp before jumping out of his seat on the couch to bound up to him.

He rubs up against Sal’s legs, chest rumbling with boat engine purrs.

He coos at the Maine Coon, voice hoarse from the nightmare. Bending down to take Gizmo into his arms.

Though he’s easily over half Sal’s height length wise he’s fairly agreeable when it comes to being transported.

His front paws go over Sal’s shoulders and his face rubs against the uncovered flesh, the rumbling purr of his chest seeping into him.

Gizmo had always been Sal’s cat more so than his Dad’s. A fact that couldn’t possibly delight him any more than it already did.

Sal hugs him to his chest, half of his weight balanced on the teen’s left hip.

“You’re up past your bedtime too, huh?” Unbelievably that seemed to prompt Gizmo to purr even louder.

“You’re a good boy, Gizmo. Let’s go back to my room.”

Sal sprawls out on top of the tangled sheets, Gizmo stretched out across his chest.

In his blind panic he hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep completely dressed.

Well, sans prosthetic mask and glass eye.

Oddly enough his glass eye was in a fresh cup of water at his bedside table and his prosthetic hung from his bed post.

He was no stranger to lost time, but the nightmare had left him shaken enough to not question the stranger occurrences of his evening.

Gizmo kneads at his chest, continuing to happily rumble away without a single care in the world.

They lay together for an indiscernible amount of time, with no windows it’s near hopeless to even guess the time.

He moves his head to the side to peer up at his alarm clock only to discover it’s unplugged.

“...”

He deliberates for a second longer before he’s resigned himself to using the walkie talkie.

With the press of a button the device cracks to life.

“Larry Face? You there?”

Sal spends a tense moment in total silence, even Gizmo had quieted himself, though he kept kneading at Sal’s chest.

_“Sally Face? What’s up dude?”_ Larry’s voice comes through the tiny speaker of the walkie talkie and that alone is enough to quiet the heart beat rising to his throat.

“I, uh,” Gizmo chirps at him, large eyes inquisitive. _Just say it, Sally._

“I had a nightmare. It was really bad…”

There’s silence before Larry’s voice returns, sounding more awake than moments prior.

_“What happened? Do you want me to come up and walk you down to my room.”_

Sal releases a shaky exhale he hadn’t even realize he’d been holding.

“Yes. Please come get me.”

_“Give me five minutes. I’ll be right up.”_

Sal lets the walkie talkie drop to its previous position tangled amongst his sheets.

Going to Larry’s meant feeding Gizmo and taking his prosthetic and glass eye with him.

The water in his cup was much colder than he'd anticipated and once in he had to blink the feeling away.

Eye in place he retrieves his prosthetic and tightens the straps just in time to hear a knock at the door.

“That was fast.”

Larry hunched over held up a single finger as he attempted to catch his breath.

“That’s because when your bro needs you, you don’t fuck around.”

And indeed he hadn’t.

A pair of pyjama pants had been haphazardly thrown on, stained with paint in several spots. Inside out and backwards.

Larry hadn’t bothered to throw on a shirt before leaving and Sal’s thankful his prosthetic hid his blush.

“Thanks.”

Larry grins at him, happy and content.

“Come on, let’s have a sleep overdown at my place. I finished another dream painting. I think you’ll like this one! It’s a field or a park or I dunno, something?”

Sal locks his door and wordlessly takes Larry’s hand in his.

Larry speaks enough for the both of them on their way down and by the time they settle into Larry’s room, Sal doesn’t have half the mind to bring up the details of his nightmare.

  



End file.
